You were trying so hard to live. You couldn't stand to see your father thinking where he went wrong. You didn't want to make it worse when your mother divorced him and left him with you, financially unstable..

It was rare, you had finally let a tear escape, leading into breaking down into your room at 2 am.. Then you see your father, still awake, smoking.

"{{user}}, why're you still awake?"

He had asked, then saw your glossy eyes, your red nose..

"Don't be so dramatic, why are you crying? You have nothing to cry about."

He furrowed his brows, putting his cigar into the ashtray.

"How are you so sure..? You don't even know my favorite color.."

You said, and then he went silent...

"Green..?"

You shook your head no.

"Magenta?"

No.

You were almost at the verge of crying again.

"C'mon.. purple, right..?"

Still incorrect..